[My reflections may (should) differ from yours. Just because I like to be contemplative, doesn’t mean that you should be as well. In particular, young children and morons should be careful in any such exercise. And please, don’t be alarmed; as everyone on this forum knows – my opinions are generally not normal, anyway! Proceed at your own risk. No warranty, implied or otherwise. Made in the USA.]

Ever contemplative, I spent the afternoon looking at the varied paths my angling pursuits have taken me and I found one over-riding theme – each divergence from an earlier path was one way and one way only. Metamorphose, somehow changed, never coming back.
Maybe better put, transformed in such a way that going back was unconscionable. And yes, I understand the terms zealot, fanaticism. Maybe. I just think that I cleaned up my act.

First it was fishing, period. Didn’t care the means, didn’t care the species. One pole in the water, three poles in the water; whatever is legal - just fish, lots of fish.

Next I started being species selective. This was quickly followed by change in tactics and equipment. Bait fishing was reserved for the salt while I binged on the spoons, spinners and such for fresh water. This general move away from bait was frequently rewarded and further reinforced by my young bride who loved me all the more when I wasn’t such a stinker – A bait/olfactory reference!

So naturally I gave up bait altogether. Then the darkness overcame me, all this metal and blades turned me hard. And the bride got hard as I moved into the world of leather. Pigskins for the plugs and spoons, a new boyfriend for the wife turned pig. Hard metal (as opposed to soft metal?) and leather, violence begets violence. But instead of joining a rock band, which is understandable since I can neither sing nor play an instrument, I rebelled, choosing the softer side of feathers and fluff. Besides it was nearing the ‘80s where fluff was as solid as anything got.

So I took up fly-fishing and, once again, chasing young ladies - both proved or were proving to be great fun and satisfying. Conspiring with my fellow fly-fishers against all others and in exorcising the intellectual in keeping pace with the bevy of beauties my mind was born. [Editor: Note that should read, exercising and reborn.]

Mind you, it is not always necessary to develop a mind, but the chicks dig it!

Anyway, I became a mostly unheralded mental heavyweight. With the extra weight came the realization that it was time to spawn so I married a young exotic dancer and found marabou. Which takes me to steelheading.

And so it brings me to the question – What’s next?

mmm

sinktip

04-27-2003, 05:57 AM

Bamboo????

Throw away the graphite but keep the dancer.;)

Nate Bailey

04-28-2003, 11:43 PM

mr mustard , I know not how of which to respond,,,,,,,Good read.....Nate

OC

05-05-2003, 10:13 AM

Mr Mustard,

A warm and encouraging read. Sinktip is right on!
Did you used to live in Roslyn, WA. own a pub with a big painting of a moose on the side of the building and married a young lass named Shelly. And all the time making believe your pub was in Alaska. Can't speak for all the old farts that visit these here pages but I for one consider you a hero for doing things as you have. Your journey along the river, the loving friendship with the young dancer brings me to the conclusion that whatever you do next will be right on.
OC

Mean Mr Mustard

05-05-2003, 08:17 PM

Pardon the ramblings of a sentimental old fool. The original post was to be a statement on my progression as a fly fisher and an opportunity to question what might lie ahead. The playfulness in spirit was simply a manifestation of my mood at the time; a somewhat inebriated mood. A “biker” friend dropped by early that Sunday to toast a fallen comrade of 20-plus years. The industrial strength Everclear he brought with him and the joyful reminiscing ultimately was too much for my usual reserve and set the pace for that day!

And Rat, my friend, may you always find quiet waters.

Sinktip –

Can’t give up the graphite; it was a gift from my little dancer, my Amerasian sweetheart. After 18 years she still rocks my world - She just sold her prize saddle and bought me a pontoon boat with the hope that I will find “suitable left-bank opportunities”!

And as to the bamboo, maybe someday when I once again take up the dry fly for trout.

Nate –

Thanks for the kind words though I am at a loss as to what constitutes a “good read”. It has been said before that we ALL have a story to tell and, with this in mind, I will toast you and all my brothers in the hope that you someday find a voice and receptive audience for the telling of yours. Maybe that’s the “good read” of what you wrote. And, sure, that sounds like so much corn, but heartfelt nonetheless…

OC –

My memories of Roslyn predate the television series. Back in my biker days we would hold our “Spring Opener” somewhere between it and Cle Elum. Three days of revelry unmatched by any Woodstock of the distant past. And our wet T-shirt contests would be universally banned in most civilized countries!

Now as to this hero stuff, you embarrass me! No, I am a card-carrying Sentimental Old Fool; a label I have earned and carry with great pride and humility (a real paradox).

mmm

Moonlight

05-06-2003, 12:03 AM

What.. Have any of you guys actually been there? All this drivel of this and that bike etc. and not a word about John Carek's Pepperoni! I call foul and the first animal is dead plauge furiously coating there.... oh well you know what I mean! (or your another fraud)

Mean Mr Mustard

05-07-2003, 02:42 PM

Moonlight –

I haven’t the foggiest idea of that which you speak. I suspect you were sampling a particularly good, or the inverse, a particularly bad bunch of ‘shrooms. Now, was I twenty years younger I might have insisted on you sharing. :D

As to Roslyn, I know little about this quiet little hamlet, juxtaposed between the slippery liberalism of the Westside and the stale, mummified conservatism of the East. No, I spent the early part of each day putt-ing around the countryside with my sweetheart and fellow members of ABATE with the remainder spent in joyous celebration, dancing around the gilded calf at Bullfrog Flats. :o

And to bring this somewhat back to fishing – Was that little stream we all skinny-dipped in at Bullfrog Flats the Yak?

Oh, the shameless times of our youth…

mmm

Just me

05-07-2003, 02:56 PM

Been to Roslyn,but don't want to live there.Fishing oppertunities(sp) are not to good there. but of course the Yakima is close by.

Moonlight

05-07-2003, 04:19 PM

MMMustard
One of the best kept secrets in Roslyn is the old world style meat market started up by John Carek(Polish Original) on one of the side streets of town. John passed away but his daughter has been doing an excellent job of maintaining the family tradition. Unless your a vegetarian you really should find the shop and buy some of the pepperoni. It is truly the worlds best. A friend who introduced me to this trteat refered to it as the "Thompson Rver" of peperoni, and we all know the qualifications for that statement!!! It may replace the 'shrooms.